


Infidelity

by Nwar



Category: American Horror Story: Hotel
Genre: F/M, OC, Original Character - Freeform, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-05
Updated: 2019-06-05
Packaged: 2020-04-08 02:52:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19098274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nwar/pseuds/Nwar
Summary: Where else is a young woman to go when she catches her husband cheating, but the Hotel Cortez?





	Infidelity

Fidelity. A synonym for constancy. Security. Home.  
It was shortly after my lunch that I saw them. I had just had a malt and half a patty melt, was cruising down the road in our family car back toward the bank when I saw the two of them. My husband, Elliot, and another woman.  
Practicing infidelity. They were kissing. Leaning across a cafe table toward each other as though no world existed for them outside of that small bubble. They didn’t notice me staring as I drove past. Almost hit someone that was jay-walking.  
I didn’t call the bank to let them know that I wouldn’t be coming in for the rest of the day. I drove numbly down the streets of Los Angeles until my attention was caught by a dress shop. I don’t know why that penetrated my fog of disbelief and growing anger. Something simply drew me to it. 

“I require a gown,” I said to the clerk.  
“Certainly ma’am--”  
“Miss.” I corrected her. I was incorrect, however. I suppose for just this one store, I wanted to be a woman who had never married Elliot.  
“Of course, miss. An evening or day dress?”  
I paused. I glanced out at the car. It would be another few hours until it was evening. I could burn through that time. “An evening gown. Something… rather fresh.”  
She smiled. “I believe I know just the one.”

I looked into the mirror. I was shocked the thing had zipped up even. It fit my body so tightly, like a glove, and yet managed to slim over the parts of me that had grown with a year of marriage. “Are you absolutely sure?” I asked the clerk.  
“I’d give it to you for free if I could, just so that you’d wear it. It looks as though it was made for you.”  
I ran my eyes over the mirror. My hair was still in my work net, piled in curls below my ears, but if I let it down it would fall to my collarbone. I’d chosen red lipstick this morning, so at least that suited. But my entire countenance, my shy being, my naturally deferring disposition didn’t suit the gown. It was bias cut, red silk. I couldn’t even wear a brassiere. It skimmed to the floor. “I believe I’m… too short.”  
It was a weak excuse, and the clerk hurried to remedy it. She brought out babydoll pumps, also in red, and slipped them on my feet as I stood there. “Trust me. Whoever he is, he’ll regret ever being born. Why don’t I loan it to you? Go down to the Hotel Cortez. Try it, see what necks you break, and then come back to buy it later.”  
I felt so chaotic inside, my marriage vows had been broken and now it felt like every other rule could be broken just as easily. I agreed, and followed her directions to the hotel.  
It didn’t occur to me until I was already in the car that I hadn’t mentioned my husband’s infidelity.  
***  
She was a vision. My wife, the countess, was viciously beautiful. She was slim and cutting, a goddess formed with a hard chisel. A goddess that had disregarded our marriage vows nearly from the day we’d taken them.  
But this woman. This woman was different. She was sitting in a velvet chair in the Blue Parrot lounge, sipping mournfully on a coupe of champagne. She was so deep in her own thoughts that she couldn’t see the many glances being sent her way. And how many glances there were, what as she was in that red silk, her beautiful legs crossed to end in sharp heels. She was as if a mirage had walked off the silver screen, and yet had all of the confidence of a country mouse.  
As I walked toward her, she ran a pinkie around the rim of the glass.  
“It must be a very important man to make a gorgeous woman like you wait in the bar.” I said.  
She startled, her glass sitting under her chin spilling a few drops on her bosom. I felt my cock stir in my pants as I watched the few glistening trails of champagne descend the flesh.  
“Oh I… I’m not sure, I… I’m not waiting for,” She looked up at me, and her eyes went wide as saucers. “I don’t believe I was waiting for anyone.”  
I smiled at her, and the sweet, sad smile she gave me in return made my long-dead heart tense. “Well then, wouldn’t you mind terribly if I stole this chair?”  
She took a lengthy sip of her champagne, almost emptying it. “No, go right ahead, you can have it.”  
I sat down in the chair, and she seemed surprised. “I know very well that I can have it. I own it. I own this whole hotel.”  
She glanced around, as if only just noticing the place where she sat. Perhaps she was further into her drink than I’d first realized. “Oh, it’s lovely. I’m going to go order another drink now.”  
I shook my head at her and signaled with one hand to Liz Taylor. “Miss Taylor, please bring this sweet woman a shirley temple.”  
She looked up at me through her lashes shyly. “Thank you very much, mister…?”  
“March. James March.” I laid my cane on the arm of my chair and leaned across the small table to take her hand. She held it as if I were going to shake it, and blushed in a most delightful way when I kissed it instead.  
“Nancy.”  
“And what brings you to my humble establishment, Miss Nancy?”  
She looked down at the drinks as they were set down. She took a sip of her drink and didn’t seem to realize it was virgin. As if she had never drank before in her life. I gulped down my share of scotch and felt for a time when it would run a shudder through my body.  
“To be absolutely honest with you, mister March,”  
“James, please,” I implored.  
“Very well, James,” My name slid off her tongue like honey. I tried desperately to keep my eyes on her sweet, innocent face and not wander to her body wrapped up in all that sinful silk. “Being honest, today I saw my wife kissing another woman. And I don’t know why, and I don’t know what came over me, but I just bought this dress and came over here and I’ve been drinking since then-- what time is it?”  
I glanced at the clock. “Seven of the clock, lovely.”  
She giggled. “Oh my. I’ve been drinking since three PM, then.”  
I looked over at Liz behind the bar, close enough to hear our conversation. She held up three fingers. So the woman was a lightweight! Oh, but such a beautiful cloud she made.  
“My wife, too, disregarded the vows we took.”  
She looked up at me, and for the first time, directly in my eyes. She had the most beautiful, sparkling blue eyes. Like the sweetest first breath of summer. All innocence and openness. “But why on heaven or earth would someone with you wish to be-- wish to have anyone else?”  
I raised an eyebrow at her as I took another sip of my drink.  
She blushed again. My god, the blood in this woman. I’d have to cross my legs if it started coloring her bosom as well. And what a bosom it was…  
“I, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to imply-- I just, well it’s that you’re so--” She cut herself off again and frowned. “Of course, I understand why Elliot would, but that’s me and you’re,” She looked across at me and gave me a sad look. “You.”  
I leaned closer to the woman, enjoying watching her eyes widen until we were but a few scant inches away from each other. “I’m not sure what you’re meaning to imply, but a man who hurts you as he did deserves nothing less than a slow, painful death.”  
She gasped, a short inhalation that let me know I had her in my grasp now.  
We talked for another hour. We discussed our respective spouses, books we read recently, what we did for a living, anything, I realized, for me to keep hearing her breathy yet sweet voice.  
“And so it took me a whole year before I could cut the ink-stained ends of my hair off.” She finished the story, giggling.  
“Tell me, dear Nancy, you haven’t mentioned any school time beau,” I leaned toward her. “Tell me of your first kiss.”  
Her blush did reach her bosom now. She was such an innocent. I couldn’t help but imagine her creamy skin spread under my hands as she learned all the delicious feelings sin could bring. Bloody hand prints smeared over her ample behind, dripping with my--  
“It was Elliot. At graduation, he kissed me behind the high school, and asked me to be his wife.”  
I smirked at her. “It was that easy, hmm?”  
She shook her head, blushing furiously. “We had been dating already! For a year. We just hadn’t… kissed.”  
I clucked my tongue. “And young Nancy, she’d had no other man in her arms?”  
She shook her head solemnly. “No. He was my first, my only-- and then we were married, and he was just-- everything I’d ever known. I suppose that’s what shocked me the most when I saw him and that,” She took a fortifying sip of her shirley temple. “That hussy!”  
I smiled at her. She looked into my eyes once more. “Nancy, how can you know he was everything if you’ve never…” I laid my hand on her silk- covered knee to better lean toward her. “Tasted any other?”  
She glanced down at my lips, dreamily looking back into my eyes. “Mister March, I…”  
“James.” I said, and then crushed my lips to hers in a fiery, demanding kiss. By this point the bar was devoid of other customers, and even Liz had gone off to the reception. Her lips felt so soft under mine, like her whole countenance was made of untested, unblemished, sweet candy floss. She knew nothing of the world, nothing of pain, nothing of the atrocities that were part and parcel of my daily life.  
She gasped as I broke off. She looked wildly into my eyes. “James, I, I’ve never,”  
“Nancy. I cannot save you from the boar who chose to seek the arms of another, but I can show you something of the pleasure that can be had if you only…” I turned over the hand that had been resting on her knee, her skin burning my palm through the silk. “Take my hand.”  
She hesitated. I could see the war in her mind so clearly on her face. How she would never consider this but for her husband’s betrayal today. She looked back up to me, and I tried to pour every charismatic, sweet part of me left into my face. She had to trust me. She must.  
She took my hand. 

I allowed her to walk into the elevator before me, out of gentlemanly manner, partly, but also partly because the way the silk hugged her hips made my cock twitch in my underclothes.  
In the elevator, she took my hand once more. As if for reassurance.  
“No person need ever know,” I told her. I tried to be comforting. I don’t know how well it worked, I was out of practice being gentle with a woman. The Countess and I were nothing except thorny and cynical to each other anymore.  
She smiled beatifically up at me. “I know.”  
I opened the door for my suite, and went to the sidebar to prepare us drinks. I turned to let her know she could sit down, when my breath was stolen from me. She was looking up at the art on my walls, standing framed by the entrance to my bedchamber. She looked like a painting herself, or a statue, a member of paradise before the fatal sin was committed. The way her gown swept over her legs, flaring into a perfect inverted lily around her soles, made for a very pretty picture indeed.  
When she turned to look at me, a sweet smile on her face, as if she knew I’d been looking at her, I forgot the drinks all together.  
I strode across the room and drew her into me. I wrapped my arms around her waist and my hand around her neck, devouring her mouth with all of the pent-up emotion I felt from her beauty. I felt dirty, like my hands which knew so much blood and pain were staining her clean soul, but when we pulled apart, her dress was as clean as ever.  
“You look so afraid,” She whispered.  
That surprised me. “My dear, it is you who should be afraid.”  
She looked at me with eyes that held more wisdom than I anticipated. “You can’t hurt me.”  
I swept her into my arms, holding her beautiful eyes in mine as I carried her like a bride to my bed. I stood her up, and put a hand on her back to keep her from sitting down. I turned her around, reaching for the zipper that ran from the crest of middle of her back down to her sweetly curved ass. Once it was open, I slid the silk off her shoulders, and watched it puddle around her feet. I dragged my eyes back up.  
“My god, you’re not wearing--”  
“They couldn’t fit under the dress.” She said over her shoulder.  
With a violence that surprised her, I shoved her down to the bed, and climbed on top of her as she lay with her head to the side. I descended on her neck, kissing and suckling the bare skin, running my hands down the expanse of her body that was suddenly open to me with no barriers or interruptions of underclothes.  
She breathed out sighs as I felt my way down, my rough woolen suit leaving chafes where I couldn’t help but to rut against her. Finally I grabbed the back of her knees, pushing them toward her until she was folded with that glorious rump high in the air. I stood back for a moment to admire the beautiful sight she made, so open and vulnerable and compliant to my every desire. I wanted to see the creamy, soft skin marked with everything I could give it. If I’d known she could take it, I’d get my cane from the sitting room and gave her ass a good seeing to.  
“James…”She sighed, face red. She was embarrassed with how open she was. I could feel it in the air, her insecurity creeping back in the longer she sat on full display for me. I could see the folds of her glistening pussy if I stood directly behind her.  
“Woman, I will give you all of the pleasure your body can take in just one moment, but my dear… A sight this incredible does not come often in a man’s life.”  
She shifted, and I could tell she was desperate to be filled. Her hips would swing to whatever tune my body played for her.  
I knelt down on one knee at the end of the bed, eyes leveled on that glorious, dripping cunt. I leaned forward, taking her in my mouth. The shocked gasp and almost immediate moan was worth it as I suckled and tasted the sweet juices that covered my chin.  
Even this was innocent and sweet, she tasted like peaches and cream, for god’s sake! And they way her hips swayed, every moan and breath from her mouth genuine surprise and excitement. Clearly this Elliot fellow had simply rode her and given no consideration to her feelings.  
Finally, I could take it no longer. I growled, flipping her over to her back. I ripped of my jacket and loosened my cravat as she lay there, exactly as I’d laid her, legs spread wide open. Her left hand was laying by her golden hair, but her other hand was rubbing up and down her own breastbone as if she needed to feel something, but couldn’t figure out what to do.  
I paused unbuttoning my waistcoat to grab the confused hand, and direct it gently but firmly to her own sex. She looked up at me, unsure and nervous, until she rubbed her fingers over herself. She gasped, and quickly took to the idea as I divested myself of my braces and trousers. It was killing me to be unbuttoning and unfastening as I watched her moan, pleasuring herself as she’d never done before.  
I was hard as a damned brick when I was finally naked, and I pounced on her, cradled her neck to kiss her thoroughly as I lined my cock up with her dripping entrance. “Oh god, darling, I don’t know how long I’ll be able to last,”  
“Please,” She begged, eyes glazed over with desperate pleasure. “Oh god, please, James, please.”  
I drove into her, an intense satisfaction filling me as I filled her tight body and her head slammed back into the mattress and her hands grasped the sheets. I wrapped my arm around her waist, my feet skidding along the plush carpet as I drove into her with all of the emotion we both felt. I felt as if I were pounding away all of the intense betrayal we’d both suffered, as if with every thrust I was fucking away the pain we possesed.  
And yet with every moment, I saw her grow more empowered-- her grasping my cock to realign me with her cunt, her sinful smirk as I gasped with pleasure, the ripple of her naughty laughter as I took her nipple into my mouth and sucked on it. Soon, the innocent girl from downstairs who had been with but one man her whole life was all but gone, replaced by this wanton harlot who rubbed herself while I pumped into her.  
“Nancy,” I gasped, more affected than I’d ever been during congress with another woman. “Nancy, I must--”  
“Yes, oh, James, please--” Her hesitation returned for one moment before she looked directly in my eyes with no small amount of brazen confidence. “Please, spend in me. Fill me, I need you in me so badly.”  
I groaned, my eyes squeezing shut for a moment as I drove once more into not only her pussy, but also the tight vee of where her first two fingers were pleasing herself. “By god, woman,” I gasped, looking down at her as I felt the surges of my finish in my spine. She bit simply bit her lip, looking back into my eyes. Just as I felt myself tighten with climax, her teeth released her lip and her mouth dropped open in a shocked gasp. Everything around my cock squeezed in glorious compaction, and I couldn’t help but empty myself inside her.  
My arms were locked around her waist as we shuddered there on the bed, together and yet separately experiencing the most intense orgasms I suspect either of us would ever have. I shook with the aftershocks of pleasure, my face buried in her neck, her sweet scent surrounding me. The smell of both of us, actually, the air of our being together.  
Finally, I righted myself, running my sweaty hands in the bed linens in a futile attempt to regain my gentle breeding after rutting into her like an animal possessed.  
She made no such effort as she lay next to me, both of us staring up at the ceiling.  
“Well I suppose I understand my husband in one more aspect now,” She mused.  
I turned my head to look at her on the bed, and our eyes met. Hers were so amused and playful, and I believe if I’d looked at mine in the mirror I’d see the fear of god put into them.  
“Yes,” she said, “I see now that infidelity has its benefits.”

**Author's Note:**

> anna oup-- just remembered that Liz Taylor wasn't there in the 50s.


End file.
